New Fashion
by Lola Me
Summary: Kurt and Blaine's relationship continues to grow outside of school hours following Kurt's transfer back to McKinley high. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**New Fashion**

Disclaimer: The character's are not mine; I'm just taking the opportunity to provide some scenes that I wish I'd seen on the show.

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 1<span>

"So you're first whole day out of the Dalton uniform…" Blaine's raised his eyebrows as he took in Kurt's distinctive fashion choice for the day, "I see you took advantage of the occasion."

Kurt glanced away from Blaine for a second and turned his attention to his jacket, removing a couple of pieces of fluff from the shoulder. "No… not really. I mean it's nice to wear clothes designed for actual people again, but I didn't have much time to plan my outfit so just opted for a classic look." He looked back up into Blaine's eyes and spoke with a deliberate drawl. "You ain't seen nothing yet Mr Anderson."

Blaine laughed a little uncertainly, and considered again how he different he and Kurt were. Dalton was perfect for Blaine; it gave him the ability to be himself while at the same time being similar to everyone else – not a target. He'd watched Kurt struggle, unable to express himself but, on the flip-side, safe in the knowledge that he wouldn't be subjected to violent or other abuse. McKinley was definitely more his style – as long as it was safe.

He took in Kurt's fitted jacket again, appreciating the clean lines. "Well I think you look perfect right now – just like you did in this blazer," Blaine tugged at his own lapels, before running his hand down the sleeve of Kurt's jacket, looking straight into his eyes. "_You _shine through no matter what you're wearing."

The two boys both smiled hesitantly at each other and looked away, blushing. They finished their coffees, catching glimpses of each other as they sat together in the Lima Bean café, chairs close around the small round table, in comfortable silence.

Once they finished their coffees, Kurt stood up, slinging his satchel over his shoulder. "Walk me home?" he asked. "I'm teaching Dad how to cook beef stroganoff tonight and need to supervise his use of paprika to make sure the entire kitchen isn't coated in a fine orange mist for the next couple of days."

"Sure," Blaine smiled, taking their empty coffee cups and placing them in the bin. "I've got some time before the weekly Anderson dinner where we all avoid my father's glare…"

Kurt fell in-step with Blaine as they walked out of the cafe, not knowing what to say - or even if he should say anything - about Blaine's last comment. Blaine hadn't told his parents that he had a boyfriend - he was out of course, and by his account his parents begrudgingly accepted his homosexuality - but he seemed afraid of their reaction to him having a boyfriend; the reality of having a gay son. Kurt shook his head imperceptibly and decided against saying anything. The last time he'd tried to talk to Blaine about it, it had only made Blaine uncomfortable. The right time would come, he supposed.

As they walked along in fading light, the streets were pleasantly filled with people going about their business in the transition from work to home life. No one paid particular attention to the two teenage boys walking along together; no one noticed the breathless excitement caused to each of them as their hands bumped against each other's with the rhythm of their comfortable gait. No one, that is, until another group of McKinley kids in a large SUV parked outside Breadstix.

Kurt noticed Blaine's demeanour stiffen instantly and felt the cool breeze as his boyfriend's hand, which had been so tantalisingly close to his, disappeared into the pockets of the grey Dalton uniform pants. He looked across to Blaine and then cast his eyes to where Blaine was looking, seeing Karofsky and others laughing with the air of boisterous ownership that was so common in a group of popular high school students.

He squeezed Blaine's shoulder quickly, recognising the tension suddenly in the air. "They won't give us any trouble," he said quietly, lifting his head and adopting a confident air as he continued walking. "Just keep walking. Nothing will happen."

At that moment, Karofsky saw them, his eyes for a moment betraying his demeanour to show inner turmoil. But it was only for a second. As Blaine and Kurt approached, Karofsky grew even more animated with his friends, loudly regaling the others with stories of exploits with cheerleaders, while also steering the group into the restaurant before any confrontation could occur.

Blaine didn't relax until they were a full block past Breadstix, and even then he kept a certain distance from Kurt as they walked together. After another couple of minutes, Kurt stopped abruptly and turned to Blaine, leaning against a light pole.

"You can't react like that every time we see those kinds of people," he glanced back in the direction of the restaurant before reaching out and taking Blaine's hand. "We can't be afraid of who we are – of what this is," he squeezed the hand held in his. "What you said at Pavarotti's burial was true - we've got each other now, and I won't let them wreck the one thing that makes me truly happy."

Blaine squeezed back and maintained the hold on Kurt's hand as they started walking again. "I know..." he paused, "I know you want to believe that," he said, "and I want nothing more than to be with you just like any other couple would be together - and I'm sure one day it will be possible." He let his hand slip out of Kurt's. "But the people in this town haven't changed in the past couple of months. The people who called your dad's workshop making threatening calls are still here… Karofsky is still the loud jock to all his friends regardless his recent actions and the Bully Whips thing – he could turn against you if he felt forced." Blaine slowed to a stop as they reached Kurt's house, turning towards him and taking both hands in his. "I am _so _lucky – and _so _happy – to have you in my life. I just think we need to be mindful of the world, and town, that we're in."

Kurt leaned against the front gate outside his house and let out a sigh. "I am mindful, I just so want for the world - this town - to catch up."

"And they will," Blaine smiled, reaching behind Kurt to open the gate. "In the meantime, as long as they're not there yet I'm going to be a bit nervous. But it doesn't mean I want to be with you any less. I am so taken with you I couldn't stay away if I tried."

The boys got to the front door and were standing smiling nervously at each other when it suddenly opened.

"Kurt! finally!" Burt appeared behind the door, grining and bedecked in red-checkered apron, brandishing a wooden spoon. "You missed the waterworks while I tackled the onions, but there's still time to get into the -", he paused, and took in the breathless looks on his son and Blaine's face.

"You're still going to help me out, right?" he looked to Kurt directly. "I mean, if you guys wanna hang out, get started on homework or something instead then that's ok... as long as the door to your room's open."

"On no Mr Hummel I don't want to intrude on your and Kurt's time together," Blaine started stepping back from the door. "I gotta get home anyway. My father..." he trailed off, looking at his feet.

Burt looked carefully at his son's new boyfriend. "Family's important, Blaine, but you're welcome to be here anytime you want." He paused as Blaine looked up to meet his eyes. "You wouldn't be intruding at all."

He let those words sink in for a moment before smiling brightly. "But you're missing out on this stroganoff! Kurt's supervision of my cooking usually ends with deliciousness..."

Blaine smiled weakly, blinking back the tear that had formed at Burt's kindness. "No I really should get going, but I'll look forward to enjoying you next culinary experiment."

He turned to Kurt and paused, unsure of how to say goodbye. "Uh Dad?" Kurt raised his eyebrow, looking at his father pointedly. "A minute?"

"Oh right, sure." Burt suddenly looked flustered and turned his attention to the wooden spoon, as if he wasn't sure of its purpose. "I'll be, ah... in the kitchen."

As soon as Burt had disappeared down the hall, Kurt pulled Blaine inside the front door of the house, just out of view from the street, and hugged him tightly. "Give me a call later," he whispered into Blaine's neck. "And _courage_."

Blaine returned the hug and then pressed his lips lightly against Kurt's, pulling Kurt's body closer to his again, opening his mouth slightly and deepening the kiss.

"Kurt - you need to tell me what to do with this orange-y powder!" Burt's voice resonated through the house.

Blaine giggled mid-kiss and pulled away reluctantly. "Your prediction of a fine orange mist coating the kitchen is going to come true unless you get in there." He brushed his hand against Kurt's cheek by way of saying goodbye and turned towards the door. "I'll call you later," he said over his shoulder as he walked towards the gate, giving Kurt a cheeky wink.

"Bye!" Kurt waved shyly, just as an enormous crash sounded from the kitchen.

"I'm ok!" came Burt's reassurance. "But I think the oven doesn't like me."

Kurt rolled his eyes and went inside, closing the door behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

**New Fashion**

_A/N: As I write this fic, Glee has not covered this storyline. My aim is to provide part of the story that isn't (and probably won't be) on-screen, but is still consistent with what we see on-screen. If in the future the official canon contradicts my story, please keep that in mind._

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 2<span>

Kurt scrutinised his skin in the mirror as he applied his routine skincare products for the evening, moving his fingers on his cheeks with rhythmic precision, in time with the Lady Gaga track playing on his computer.

The sound faded mid-song and Kurt looked expectantly to see who was skyping him, nearly putting a glob of moisturiser in his mouth as he opened his mouth to grin while clicking "answer" on the screen.

"Hey I'm glad you're still up," Blaine's image appeared in semi-pixellated form before clearing against the softly-lit background of his room, lit only by a small lamp. "Sorry I didn't call or text earlier - I got your texts but... you know."

Kurt didn't really know, but tried not to make a big deal of the fact that he'd heard nothing from Blaine for almost four hours.

"Sure it's fine," he said with deliberate nonchalance. "I'm glad you called now - I didn't see you come online." He paused, checking the image of himself on the screen to see that he didn't have any obvious bits of un-spread moisturiser remaining on his face. "How did dinner go?" he tried to ask casually.

Blaine ran his fingers through his hair, shaking it loose from the hair gel a bit and looked away from the computer as he spoke. "Dinner was... dinner. There was food..." he stopped for a moment, "I don't know - is it better to have tense conversation or tense silence?"

"I don't know," Kurt wished he could reach through the screen and touch Blaine. "Which was it this time?"

"Silence." Blaine place his elbows on the desk and rested his chin in his hands. "I think my dad suspects that something is going on with me but is too afraid to ask."

"So why don't you tell him?" Kurt knew he was in dangerous territory but the issue could not be ignored.

"I-" Blaine fidgeted and cast his eyes down to the desk in front of him, his hand reaching for a pen and twirling it between his thumb and forefinger. "I don't know... it's complicated." He looked up for a moment before concentrating again on the twirling pen. "He's not like your dad, Kurt." Blaine's voice dropped to almost a whisper, "he doesn't love me like yours loves you."

At that moment Kurt's door sprung open with a simultaneous knock and Finn barged in, holding two T-shirts against his chest.

"Kurt, Quinn won't tell me which of these is more suitable for our date tomorrow night and I-" he stopped, realising that the room was completely silent, and looked to the desk where Kurt was sitting to see the computer and Blaine's face on the screen. "Oh, hey Blaine," he said, then paused. "Sorry Kurt," he added, looking to his step-brother, "I really shoulda knocked... hey is everything ok?"

What had been left of Blaine's resolve had disappeared while Finn was talking. He had bowed his head, clenching his fists.

"Finn - _leave_," Kurt hissed angrily and glared at his step-brother's hasty retreat. He quickly turned back to Blaine. "Hey, Blaine? Talk to me. Tell me what's going on - please?"

Blaine rubbed his eyes tiredly, taking deep breaths before speaking again. "You don't know how lucky you are, Kurt," he said. "Your dad... Finn... Carol... They just love you for you. I- gosh..." he grimaced with annoyance. "I spend my _whole time_ at home just praying that someone will include and accept me for me me like you're included and accepted - but it's like we live in a prison and we're all in solitary confinement... and even during the hour of rec time we get each day for dinner, we're not allowed to talk to each other or we talk so mechanically we may as well not be talking at all." He stopped for a moment, calming himself again, and looked directly at Kurt through the computer: "I just feel so trapped."

Kurt didn't know what to say, and he felt a couple of tears fall to his cheeks, like those he could see Blaine trying to blink away. "You don't have to be trapped Blaine," he said, defiant through the pain. "You broke out of that prison once by telling your father that you're gay. If you're trapped again, and if you feel they're not accepting you for you, then as soon as you tell them about me - about us - it has to start getting better because you will have _shown_ them all of you."

Blaine looked into the webcam uncertainly. "I've already told you it didn't go well at first last time Kurt - when I came out." He buried his face in his hands, but then snapped his head up abruptly and looked over his shoulder. "I gotta go," he said, wiping his face with a handkerchief. "I'll see you later."

"Blaine wait - maybe seeing me on the screen could help-" Kurt was mid-sentence as the connection was lost.

He sat staring at the screen for some minutes. The Lady Gaga track faded back in and continued playing, but the music and words didn't penetrate. Kurt's thoughts were miles away as he tried to imagine what was happening in Blaine's bedroom. He picked up his phone and typed a couple of encouraging messages, deleting them each time; mindful that if Blaine was in some sort of confrontation, receiving a text message from Kurt may not help.

Or maybe it could force the issue into the open, he thought, and began typing again.

Before he could press 'send', there was a soft knock at the door, followed - this time a couple of respectful seconds later - by Finn's cautious voice as he pushed the door a couple of inches open.

"Kurt? Everything ok?" Finn pushed the door further open once he was sure he wasn't interrupting anything.

"Sorry 'bout before," he raised his hands in a gesture of apology, "You know how Quinn stresses me out with her demands." Finn sat down on the end of Kurt's bed and waited for his stepbrother to speak.

"You should wear the light blue shirt," Kurt said after a moment, putting his phone - text message still unsent - on the desk in front of him. "It looks better against your skin-tone in the artificial light of Breadstix."

"Oh right," Finn nodded quickly. "Thanks." He fidgeted for a moment on the bed and was just getting up to leave Kurt's room when the sound of Kurt's voice again stopped him.

"Do you think it would have been different for Quinn if you hadn't have told her parents that she was pregnant last year?" Finn sat back down quickly, taken aback by the question. "I mean," Kurt continued, "did her dad throw her out because he was suddenly confronted with her pregnancy by the person he thought got her pregnant, or would he have done the same no matter how he found out?" Kurt swivelled on his chair and began picking and preening at his pants as silence filled the room.

"Everything was... _is_... always so complicated with Quinn," Finn began, thinking back over the situation only one year ago and shaking his head at how different things had been. "There was so much lying and manipulation back then - not just her, but her mom and dad too. They've all learned a lot since I think." As Finn said the words, he started to wonder whether that was in fact true, but shook the thought off and concentrated on Kurt's question.

"I think the most important thing back then was to have the truth out in the open." He said, nodding his head to himself as if in reassurance. "I mean, things got worse at first - but look at them now right?" He looked to Kurt, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Just because the truth causes trouble at first, doesn't mean it wasn't the right way to go. I don't regret what I did."

While Finn had been talking, Burt had come to Kurt's door from the hallway.

"That's partly right," he boys jolted slightly hearing Burt's voice, having not realised he was there, "the truth always comes out eventually and even if it causes trouble it _is_ better to be out there." Burt paused for a moment, measuring his next words carefully. "_But_, if it's not your truth to tell then it's not your place to reveal it." He looked directly at Finn for a moment. "Especially since, as you well know Finn, you might not actually have the whole truth."

Burt looked from one boy to the other, deciphering what had brought this conversation to the fore. "Finn, would you mind giving me and Kurt a minute? Your mom wants you to say goodnight to her before bed anyway." Finn stood up awkwardly and shrugged his shoulders. "Sure," he said, making a quick exit. "G'night Kurt."

Kurt nodded his thanks to Finn and took his phone into his hand again, considering the message he had typed but had still not sent - he was more torn than ever as to what to do. He felt his father move closer and sit down a few feet away on the closer-side of the bed.

"Is this about Blaine?" Burt asked quietly.

"Uh huh". Kurt didn't look up, his eyes fixed instead on the unsent message. "He hasn't told his dad that we're going out." He looked up into his father's eyes. "It's like he's afraid or something - but his dad knows he's gay so what's the big deal?" Kurt's eyes pleaded with his father's for answers.

"First off, I'm sure his reluctance to tell his dad about you two isn't in any way a reflection of his feelings for you," Burt said, getting the obvious out of the way. "From what I saw when you got home before dinner tonight I get the feeling his home-life isn't too pleasant right now, right?" he paused for confirmation as Kurt nodded his head. "But it's _his_ home-life Kurt, and you need to let him deal with it his way."

Kurt's eyes flashed with frustration and he looked up at his father. "But he's not dealing with it at all - and to make it worse he says feels like a prisoner in his house. His father doesn't-... he won't-... I feel like I _have_ to help!"

"I know, I know." Burt placed a reassuring hand on his son's knee. "But sometimes there's nothing we can do to help the people we love, no matter how much we want to. We just have to be there for them."

"But I want so badly to help - I don't even know how to be there for him... to let him know, like he let me know, that he's not alone." Kurt's hands started shaking. "And I want to help him be strong - help him stand up to his father and break through-"

"Kurt, you cannot do this for Blaine - he has to do it himself." he said firmly, a clear warning tone in his voice. "You don't know the full story, and you could make things worse."

"But his father needs to face the truth?" Kurt said hopefully. "You said yourself it's better when people know the truth-"

"You're being selective about what I said," Burt responded quickly but calmly. "Sure, being honest with people and telling the truth is important - but whatever Blaine's issues with his father, you can't face them for him. At best you can be there with him when he confronts his father, if he wants you there, but," Burt paused to emphasise the word, "_but,_ it is still Blaine's issue to resolve and you need to leave it to him to do that."

Kurt's phone chirped loudly, breaking the silence that had settled after Burt's last words.

"That him?" Burt nodded towards the phone. "I'll let you get ready for bed. Don't be chatting too late." He got up and started moving out of the room. "I love you, Kurt." He said while paused in the doorway. "I know you'll be there for Blaine, and I know you'll do the right thing."

"Thanks Dad," Kurt lifted his head and smiled weakly at his father. "For everything." He watched the door close behind his father before looking at the text again.

_New house rule regarding phone - don't try to text or call until I message you in the morning with an all-clear. Wish I could say good night to you properly. xx _

"And now I'm trapped too." Kurt said with melancholy, throwing the phone to the side in disgust. He shut his computer down and let silence settle over the room. Slowly and deliberately, he got up, changed into pyjamas, and flopped down onto his bed, putting a pillow over his head. He remained like that until sleep came, his pillow damp with the frustrated tears he had tried to keep in.


	3. Chapter 3

**New Fashion**

_A/N: Thank you to those who have reviewed for the encouragement, and to everyone else for reading. _

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 3<span>

Burt enjoyed the relative silence of his workshop. Only the tinnie radio, traffic outside and occasional grunts and bangs from his assistant filled the void. The morning rush of people dropping cars off and/or calling to see if their cars were ready was over and he figured it would be at least an hour and a half before the phone started ringing with people checking up on their precious vehicles. If they only let me do my job for more than 5 minutes I'm sure their car would be ready earlier, he thought wearily, and grimaced with the effort of removing a particularly difficult component on the Mazda in front of him.

The loping footsteps of entitlement entering the workshop alerted him that apparently the rush wasn't over after all. Burt glanced backwards to see a middle-aged man approach. He has buoyant and wavy dark hair, with streaks of grey at the sides, parted firmly on the side; he was of average height but not tall and; although carrying a little extra weight around his middle from years working an office-job, didn't appear overweight. He was wearing a suit probably worth more than the Mazda in the shop, and wore it with the calm air of someone who was accustomed to spending most of his time in business attire. Burt didn't think he recognised the man as one of his customers, but surmised it could be that usually his wife dropped off and picked up their car.

"Help you?" he said politely, wiping his hands on a rag and wandering towards the counter.

"Are you Mr Hummel?" the man asked steadily. Burt couldn't tell but he thought he noticed a hint of agression in his voice. He's probably just a lawyer, Burt thought to himself, they all talk like that; and the suit fits.

"Yes I am," Burt said, placing both palms on the lower bench in front of him, waiting for the man to declare his purpose.

"I am Miles Anderson, I believe you may have met my son, Blaine." Mr Anderson had paused before saying his son's name, his voice hitching slightly.

Burt let out a silent breath of apprehension and then put his hand out. "Yes, it's a pleasure to meet you Mr Anderson." His hand remained in vacant space between them for a couple of seconds before Mr Anderson took it.

"And you Mr Hummel," he responded solemnly. "Would you have a moment? I'm a little concerned about my son."

"Oh?" Burt raised his eyebrow. "Yeah sure, ahh... is here ok? I don't really have an office." He giggled nervously gesturing around the workshop. "I'd offer you a seat at least but wouldn't want to muss up that nice suit of yours."

"That's perfectly alright Mr Hummel," Mr Anderson maintained a cold demeanour without being outright threatening. "This shouldn't take to long."

"Well, ok then." Burt nodded, and stood back a little, folding his arms, as he waited for Mr Anderson to explain his purpose.

The relative silence that had filled the workshop was now replaced with a deafening and opressive silence; each car passing crashing into Burt's ears while the tinnie radio seemed to bore straight into his brain giving him a headache. He watched Mr Anderson carefully for the couple of minutes it took him to speak.

"I want to be clear at the outset Mr Hummel," Mr Anderson finally began. "I am not a homophobe... and I love my son."

Burt said nothing, waiting for the catch.

"But," Mr Anderson laboured on the transition, "I am concerned that he could be placing himself in danger by being so _outwardly _gay," Mr Anderson's words rolled together as he got into a rhythm. " And given I think he and your son are … close … I think you should be concerned as well."

Burt took a couple of deep breaths as he considered Mr Anderson's statement, realising he was serious.

"Mr Anderson," Burt began, "you obviously haven't met my son, because there's no changing who he is, what he is, or _how_ he acts or expresses himself" He raised a hand up to to ward off any interruption. "Lord knows there have been times where I've thought perhaps it would be easier for him if was just a little more discreet, but I would never try to change who he is. He is out, he is proud, _I_ am proud to be his father and I _will _defend and protect him, as well as his right to be who he is."

"That is just what I am trying to do," Mr Anderson snapped, taking offense at Burt's insinuation, "these kids don't understand how intolerant people can be - they need to learn to tone it down - before they _really _get hurt."

"What so they should hide?" Burt snapped just as sharply, "From what I hear both our sons have suffered already just for being who they are - which is why they each went to Dalton Academy. There will always be a risk and some people will always target them - individually or as a couple - but I support Kurt in his decision to be true to himself and not to hide in the shadows." Burt took a couple of breaths to calm himself down. "Don't get me wrong." he began again slowly, his voice rough. "I worry _every day _about my son's safety - I only agreed to let him go back to McKinley when I was certain the school took their bullying problem seriously and could guarantee his safety again." He leaned into the bench in front of him. "I respect my son too much to try to change how he acts or who he is - and I truly believe that in supporting him, I am helping to keep him safe because he feels comfortable coming to me with his problems."

Burt let his last comment sit thickly over the air between them and took half a step back again. He had probably gone a bit far in his defence of Kurt, but had spoken from the heart, so didn't offer any qualifying comment or attempt at apology.

Mr Anderson visibly shrunk into himself at Burt's last comment. He looked behind him and, seeing a dusty chair, shuffled backwards to sit in it - not paying any heed to his suit.

"So they _are _boyfriends, then?" He said more to himself than Burt. "So he really is..."

Burt moved around the counter and leaned on it, facing Mr Anderson. "I think you need to talk with your son, Mr Anderson," he said quietly. "I'm not gunna tell you how to raise your kid, but from the brief conversations I've had with him, I'd say Blaine is a sweet, sensitive kid who is searching for acceptance. Yes, he's gay; yes, he is dating my gay son; and yes, I accept and support that."

The words seemed to make Mr Anderson sink into himself even more, putting his face in his hands. "I don't even know how to talk to him anymore," he said quietly. "Every time I try it works out worse than before - how do I find the right words?"

"From what Kurt tells me," Burt continued, "Blaine is afraid." Mr Anderson looked up, confused, but kept listening. "Outside of Dalton and that Glee Club - the Warblers - he is a scared kid. And he's scared because so much of the world is hostile toward him. He needs people in his corner; he needs to know his _father _is in his corner."

"But I am-" Mr Anderson started.

"Of course," Burt interrupted, "but these kids - for all their sophistication and demands to be treated as equals, they're still kids. They don't always get it because their emotions and - lord knows in Kurt's case at least - _melodrama_ clouds everything. Just try to sit with him, ask him questions and listen to what he has to say; be open to it."

Burt let out a long sigh and ran a hand through his hair. He turned around, retrieving one of the many rags laid about as the first step towards getting back to his work. "I'm sorry, I said I wouldn't tell you how to raise your kid... I know I've over-stepped," he allowed a small smile to cross his face. "I understand your concern for Blaine's safety because I have the same concerns for Kurt, every day."

Mr Anderson had stood up and was brushing down his suit. This time when Burt offered his hand it was taken without hesitation and the two men shook hands solemnly for a moment.

"Talk to your son, Mr Anderson. Make it clear that you're there for him, in _his _corner."

Burt waited in silence as Mr Anderson walked out of the workshop and into the bright sunlight before turning back to the Mazda, more weary than ever.


	4. Chapter 4

**New Fashion**

_A/N: Thank you for the lovely reviews - I'm glad people are enjoying my take on the characters. More people reading adds the pressure so hopefully you stick with me... it's a bit harder to write mid-week too since I'm expected to work... the world needs saving etc etc. _

_Please enjoy - and I do apologise if typos remain. I'm about to go back and fix the egregious typo in Chapter 3 (homophone/homophobe - the horror). I *do* have an editing process... really... but if you spot any shockers like that one, definitely message me to let me know :-)_

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 4<span>

Kurt was ready to burst at the seams with questions, sympathy, outrage, love, support and everything else but he contained himself, standing calmly next to Blaine as they waited for their after-school coffees at Lima Bean cafe.

Blaine had texted in the morning, but only to say that his phone wasn't "secure", and that they would talk after-school. While the James Bond allure of that statement had appealed to Kurt's fantasies of Blaine as a young Sean Connery-esque British spy, it had only made him more worried throughout the day; and did nothing to dispel his feeling of being trapped - it added paralysis to his list of emotions.

So as he stood next to Blaine who, by all accounts, did not have any visible signs of distress from whatever had happened the night before, Kurt was dying to grab hold of his boyfriend and never let go. Instead he stood silently, grinding his teeth slightly with the tension, and reminded himself over and over that he was there to support Blaine. It was about _Blaine_.

When the coffees were finally ready, Kurt didn't offer any thanks before whisking them away past the suger/lid table and to a small round table in the corner of the cafe. Blaine took his time coming to the table, collecting sweetener, stirrers and lids before sitting down gracefully at the table in front of Kurt.

"Are you ok?" Blaine asked him, shaking the packet of sweetener and dispensing it into his latte.

"Am _I _ok?" Kurt hissed back in a semi-hushed voice. "I've been worried sick about _you _since last night - what happened? Did you talk to your Dad? What's going on with your phone?" Kurt stopped, closed his eyes and shook himself in an effort to calm down. "I mean," he tried again, more calmly this time, "What's going on, and what can I do to help make it better?" He reached his hand out to catch Blaine's as it came to rest after stirring the coffee.

Blaine interlocked his hand with Kurt's and smiled, his heart swelling at such an emphatic show of caring. "I love how wonderful you are," he said quietly, with a smile. "Thank you." He reached for his coffee with his other hand and took a sip, savouring the aromas and warmth before delving into his account of the night before. "You make it better just by being you, being here, being with me."

"So...?" Kurt raised an eyebrow expectantly. "I've been worried all sick all day - tell me what's going on."

Blaine took a deep breath, and began. "Well dinner was horrible... as I said already last night." He started at the beginning of the story. "My parents were not talking to each other at all and they kept each looking at me - as if they were going to say _something_ but then just kept eating in silence... the cutlery scraping across their plates... glaring at each other... at me... " he faded out, and Kurt reached up to squeeze his arm in support. "So that was pleasant - not," he continued, "and the whole night was like that - with this heightened tension, without escape because it was _family time_-" he stopped again and laughed bitterly. "I kept imagining how wonderful dinner would be with you and your family - how there would be conversation, laughter, and actual home cooked food that tastes like someone tried. At my place - it was just so... cold. Like we were a depressed, tense Addams Family or something." Blaine stopped talking and just sat, thinking.

He had kept up a good show of strength throughout the day. If his classmates or the Warblers had noticed a change in his demeanour that day, none of them had said anything. He was almost glad he'd had a reason to tell Kurt not to message him; while he loved the fact that he had someone to care for and support him, he had needed to stay strong and Kurt's attentions to him would have made him want to curl up in his arms instead.

"So what happened later on? When you and I were talking?" Kurt asked after a while.

"It wasn't that bad I guess," Blaine looked down and fiddled with the cuffs on his blazer. "My father had heard me talking - even though I'm not supposed to be talking to friends after 10pm - so I got a lecture about that... had to surrender my laptop and cell..." He shrugged, glancing at Kurt. Upon reflection it really had been just a classic father-son disagreement about boundaries, up until that point.

"But that's not all... is it." Kurt said matter-of-factly. He squeezed Blaine's hand in encouragement. "Tell me Blaine... let me be here for you - like you've always been for me."

"Well," Blaine began, "I was texting you quickly before giving up the my cell for the night - I mean I thought my father couldn't see that I was texting cos he was busy taking my laptop... but he did." He stopped for a moment, and tears formed in his eyes. "He just _freaked_- he was like 'who are you texting so late at night?' 'what's so important?' … and then he looked at the history, photos, everything and asked 'why do you have all these photos of you and this guy - Kurt?'…"

Kurt took a sharp intake of breath, his throat suddenly dry and chest heavy with fear. "What did you say?" Kurt whispered almost too quietly to be heard.

"I- I..." Blaine faltered, "I just couldn't say _anything -_ I'm sorry Kurt I wanted so much to just tell him and for him to be ok and for him to want to meet you and then be polite and charming and friendly when he does meet and... and... but... I'm just not sure he's ready - and I hate that."

Blaine took his hands back from Kurt and buried his face in his palms, taking in deep breaths. Kurt shuffled his chair around next to his boyfriend, placing a supportive hand on his knee, just as a deep, resonant voice filled the air between them.

"I'm ready."

Miles Anderson stood between the corner table and the rest of the cafe, suit immaculate, overcoat draped over the arm holding his briefcase. Even though he was at least 5 feet away, he loomed over the table, cutting out most of the artificial light behind him so that only the fading light penetrating through the glass windows to the side lit the are - in a cold blue.

Blaine's head shot up at the sound of his father's voice, and his body followed the upwards motion, recoiling backward, chair clattering against the floor as he stepped back, hitting the wall and sticking there like a bug in a spider's web. Kurt didn't know what to do. He wanted to stand right next to Blaine, take his hand, calm him down, face his father with him, side by side. But the look of abject fear on Blaine's face warned him off. Burt's words from the night before floated in an out of Kurt's mind, and he realised again their wisdom. This was something Blaine had to face. Kurt would be there, but part of the furniture - to be called upon only as required. Kurt hoped fervently that Blaine would let him provide that extra strength.

"Blaine..." Mr Anderson dropped his briefcase to the ground, letting the overcoat crumple over it. He stood frozen on the spot, wanting to reach out to his son but afraid of his reaction. His eyes moved to look at Kurt, who looked poised to leap to his feet in defence of Blaine at a moment's notice.

"You must be Kurt," Mr Anderson changed tack, took a step forward and offered his hand to Kurt. "It's a pleasure to meet you." He waited patiently while Kurt looked first towards Blaine, before extending his hand to shake Mr Anderson's. Mr Anderson smiled as warmly as he could as he shook Kurt's hand, and pulled a chair from behind him to sit down at the table.

"Blaine, please sit down." Mr Anderson's voice constricted as he realised just how paralysed his son was. He shook his head in disbelief at how it had all gone wrong. "Blaine, look - I'm sorry for how things have been. Please - sit down."

Kurt took this cue to stand quietly, pick up the knocked over chair and guide Blaine back into the chair. Once seated, he felt Blaine's hand find his on his knee and clasp it tightly. He clasped back.

"What are you doing here Dad?" Blaine finally spoke, his voice sounding haunted from the shock. He shook his head in disbelief. What's going on?"

"What's going on..." Mr Anderson began slowly, "is that I've let you down when all you've needed is for me to be your father; to be proud of you," he paused, "and I am _so _proud, Blaine."

Kurt gasped before he could stop himself, putting a hand up to his mouth, his eyes welling with anticipation at a possible hallmark moment that would clear the way for him and Blaine to be completely happy.

Mr Anderson continued. "I'm proud of your bravery, coming out at such a young age. I'm proud of you for putting up with and surviving your old school. I'm proud of you for all your hard work and good grades at Dalton Academy. I'm proud of your singing with the Warblers. I'm proud of you for who you are, just as you are, and I love you."

Blaine found a smile tugging at his lips, with each word his father said Blaine felt his ears filling with a roar as his heart beat faster, pumping blood through his system. He felt lifted with the sensation of acceptance and love.

"Most of all Blaine," Mr Anderson paused until his son was looking him directly in the eye across the table, "I'm proud to be your father, and I'm in your corner - ready to fight with you if you ever need _anything_. I'm just sorry I haven't been able to tell you or act like it before."

Kurt resisted the urge to squeal but couldn't hide the grin from his face. He looked to Blaine, squeezing his hand as a form of encouragement.

"What changed?" Blaine found his voice - raucus and raspy but audible. "Last night you and Mom could barely look at me, let alone talk to me. Then you were confiscating my phone and interrogating me about Kurt... and now here you are acting like you've swallowed a brochure on 'accepting gay teens' -" he shook his head. "I don't get it."

Mr Anderson nodded, closing his eyes for a moment before responding. "We have been trying to work up the courage to talk to you Blaine - but it's not about you and Kurt," he added hastily, seeing the look exchanged between the two boys. "I mean... if there is a you and, ah... anyway," his face was going red. "It's about your mother and I." he said finally after a couple of awkward seconds. "We, ah, we're going to be leading increasingly separate lives."

Silence seemed to fall over the cafe; a break in music and general hubbub falling at the exact moment Mr Anderson had spoken that last sentence. Blaine was sure the entire room was listening, and held his breath.

"The in's and out's aren't important," Mr Anderson put a hand up to hold back any questions, the room seemingly returning to a constant hum, "but we've been trying to find a way to tell you; and knowing that you've been going through so much in your own life recently it just never seemed the right time. The truth is, though," his hand fell to the table again, "and you must have noticed it, the strain has been getting too much, and it started impacting on you more."

"Huh." Blaine breathed, his eyes fixed on the table as he took the information in. He felt Kurt's hand entwined with his and stroked his thumb against Kurt's smooth skin, grateful to have the connection and support of someone with him. "Are you... going to move out?" he asked his father.

"No, at least not yet." Mr Anderson answered. "I'll be taking the guest house - hopefully you'll come hang out... watch the game," he looked hopefully at his son.

"Why?" Blaine asked, referring to his parents' separation, not the suggested sports bonding sessions.

"It's... complicated," Mr Anderson said after some hesitation. "I-" his voice seemed to falter, "I lost your mother's respect, and need to try to get it back." He spread his palms across the table. "It's my mess to fix, and I'm determined to fix it - for our family. The important thing," he continued, "is that I realise I was taking my own pain out on you and - and I'm ashamed to say it - I haven't been a father to you. Last night after we argued I realised it had gone too far; that it had to stop because I was losing you." He reached out a hand, which Blaine graciously took. "I'm so sorry, Blaine."

Blaine nodded, not saying anything. He held his father's hand for a moment before retrieving it and leaning back into his chair again. It occurred to him, for the first time, that his father was a person, flawed just like any other. That fact alone made Blaine feel closer his father, and he felt the tension and weight of most of his fears dissipate, flowing through his feet into the cool tiled floor below.

The three of them sat there for some time in silence. Kurt wondered - not for the first time during the conversation - whether he should leave them alone. But the tight hold Blaine still had on his hand reassured him that he was where he should be - supporting his man.

Mr Anderson sat patiently, watching his son and noticing his body language with Kurt. He recognised the important role Kurt was playing that day, and generally in his son's life. He realised and admired how much the two boys meant to each other and how valuable their connection was in what was so often a hostile world. Mr Anderson hoped fervently to never again contribute to its hostility.

Eventually, Blaine turned to Kurt, put a second hand over his and Kurt's clasped hands and looked into his boyfriend's eyes expectantly. He seemed breathless, petrified and excited all at once. With a silent nod and squeeze of the hand Kurt told him to go for it, a smile forming on his lips as he and Blaine both looked at Mr Anderson.

"Dad," Blaine began hesitantly, "I'd like you to meet Kurt... my boyfriend."


	5. Chapter 5

**New Fashion**

_A/N: __This is the last one in this little story, it's short but gets a little bit steamy. Hope you enjoy._

Chapter 5

Blaine and Kurt were laying on the fluffy rug that covered the floor at the end of Blaine's bed in his room, looking at the ceiling. "This is where my bed used to be in my room when I was little," Blaine had explained, "and when I was 6 my Dad put these glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling. He told me to reach for them because I could do anything... be anything."

Kurt smiled, looking up to the soft glow of the stars, and slid his hand across the furry rug to meet Blaine's hand next to him. The boys traced their fingers together, interlocking them as they lay together in comfortable silence. The room was almost dark as light faded outside and the warm yellow light of the hallway became an increasing contrast.

"And thus ends our tour," Blaine said, turning his head on his side and smiling at Kurt. "Voila the Anderson household."

Kurt glanced across at Blaine. He could see the events of the afternoon had had a beneficial impact in terms of his Dad's acceptance, but that his parents' relationship was troubling him. He decided against raising it, however. Enough drama for one day, he thought to himself.

"I like your house, your room... and your stars." Kurt smiled. "Thank you for showing it to me."

Blaine smiled again and looked back up to the ceiling. "These stars have been the one constant in my life, the one thing I can look to and _think big_ about the future... imagining how things will be, how things should be." He paused, unlinked his fingers from Kurt's and turned completely onto his side to look at him. "But I don't need them for that now, because with you in my life things _are _as they should be."

Kurt's heart leapt at Blaine's words, his head turning on its side to look at Blaine. He let out a small squeak before he could stop himself.

"To be able to show you my house," Blaine continued, "introduce you to my Dad - and my Mom when she gets home in a bit..." he trailed off and shook his head with the wonder of it all. "To have someone with me, in every sense of the word, is so _incredible _Kurt - I hope you know how much you mean to me."

Kurt rolled onto his side, mirroring Blaine's form on the rug, his eyes moist and throat swollen with the emotion of the moment as he looked into his boyfriend's eyes. Blaine held his gaze, his eyes darkening and mouth opening slightly as his breath grew more ragged.

Kurt closed the gap between them, capturing Blaine's mouth in his as they shared the first of many kisses on that rug. His hand clasped at Blaine's waist with force equal to the power of his lips. The additional touch of his hand on Blaine's side seemed to light an additional spark in Blaine, who suddenly lunged, his lips never leaving Kurt's, and repositioned himself so he lay on top of Kurt, his jeans moving against Kurt's in blissful friction. His hand found Kurt's waist and a patch of smooth bare skin where Kurt's t-shirt had ridden up. He felt Kurt's sharp intake of breath as he installed his hand under the warmth of the cotton shirt, massaging his hand into his skin in rhythm with his mouth and body.

"I..." Kurt tried to speak but his mouth, heart and everything else was fighting against him.

Blaine slowed his mouth and broke of the kiss gently, keeping the physical connection between them everywhere else. "You ok?" he breathed quietly, his mouth a mere inch from Kurt's and their eyes remained locked together.

Kurt took the opportunity to breathe, but didn't seem to be able to get enough air. His heart was pounding as the newly familiar feeling of arousal washed around his body, sparking as he shifted his position causing more exquisite friction between their lower halves.

"I just don't think I quite know how to stop," he finally managed to say, blushing slightly at the admission.

Blaine smiled back at Kurt and re-locked their lips together for a deeper, slower kiss. They both breathed into the kiss, keeping it slow and deliberate, before pulling away, breathless. Blaine repositioned himself so he wasn't quite on top of Kurt anymore but instead lay half over him, in his arms, with one leg locked with Kurt's, and his head resting on Kurt's chest.

"Given the door is wide open..." Blaine lifted his head slightly, raised a cheeky eyebrow and looked into Kurt's eyes, smiling. "But I know what you mean," his expression turned serious again. "I just don't know what you do to me... it's like electricity."

"Tell me about it," Kurt replied in a soft voice, as he wrapped his arms around Blaine's body and hugged it tight to his. They both lay together like that for some time, looking up towards the stars, which twinkled in the now-dark room.


End file.
